All Was Well
by JKRthanksformychildhood
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione have weathered the storm of the War- watch as this story picks up their lives post-Final Battle and carries it through to the DH epilogue! Canon-compliant, rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the short introductory chapter- the rest will be longer, I promise!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing in JKR's magical world.**

 **Chapter One**

'D'you reckon she'll turn up soon?' yawned Ron, gesturing at the empty frame.

'I hope so,' Hermione said, peering around at the neighboring frames anxiously. 'What if something happened to her?'

'Hermione, she's a portrait! I think we've done our share of worrying for real live people to last us a while.'

'Honestly, Ron, just because-'

Harry leaned up against the wall adjacent to sealed entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, tuning out his two friends' voices. He was beginning to realize that, no matter how exhausted they were, there was no stopping their bickering. He closed his eyes.

'Harry, is everything alright?' Hermione's voice held the same tone of concern it did when Harry got flashes of insight from Voldemort's mind.

Not wanting to alarm her, he cracked one lid open. 'Just tired.'

'Maybe we could just blast open the hole,' Ron began.

'Ronald!'

'For Harry's sake,' Ron said, tipping Harry a wink. Harry chuckled.

Just as Hermione drew breath to begin her tirade, the Fat Lady came dashing across the portraits along the wall. 'So sorry about that!' she panted, clutching at her chest. 'We were all down at the Entrance Hall, you know, trying to piece together what happened. I heard Harry Potter had killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Vi and I just-'

'-Had to see for yourselves,' Harry finished for her, pushing himself off the wall and turning to face the portrait.

'Oh, I didn't see you there!' The Fat Lady said, rather flustered.

'We don't know the password,' Hermione interjected before the Fat Lady could speak again. 'Would it be okay if we went inside?'

'Well, of course! In you go, dears.'

'About bloody time,' Ron muttered as the hole swung open to reveal a mercifully empty Common Room. The boys climbed the staircase up to their old dormitory to find their old beds untouched and exactly as they had been left.

'Ah, home, sweet home,' Ron said, tapping his wand habitually on Dean's West Ham football team posters. Harry made a beeline for his bed and had just begun to unbutton his shirt when a voice rang out behind them.

'What about me?'

'Blimey, Hermione!' Harry and Ron had both whipped out their wands and pointed them straight at Hermione, who stood framed in shadow by the doorway.

'What are you doing here?' Ron inquired indignantly.

'I-' Hermione's eyes were trained on her shuffling feet. 'I didn't want to sleep alone.' Harry and Ron exchanged weary glances. 'Maybe we could put some beds together?' she suggested mildly.

Harry snorted. 'As long as you two promise to keep your hands to yourselves,' he said, before turning back, but not so fast that he missed the faint shade of pink appear in Hermione's cheeks, or the reddening of Ron's ears.

Harry had thought it would be difficult to fall asleep. After all, he, Ron and Hermione had been running for almost a year; if he were to be honest, they had all been on their guard for a much longer time- maybe even years. Yet somehow, once Ron was done levitating things around to put three beds together and Hermione had settled in between them, nothing else was important to any of them apart from the fact that they were together, and they were alive. Harry smiled to himself as he drifted off before Ron's overwhelmingly loud snores, or Hermione's quiet, deep breaths filled the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: In the spirit of keeping the story going, here's a quick update. Please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing in JKR's fabulous world.**

 **Chapter Two**

Harry awoke to the same sound he had for the past seven years; if it weren't for Hermione's hand on his grimy upper arm, Harry would not have been able to sense her presence, or known to distinguish her slow breaths from Ron's enormous snores. Careful not to jostle Hermione's grip, Harry reached out to retrieve his glasses from the plush scarlet carpeting. He blinked, and the familiar room came in to view. He had not moved an inch in his sleep, and was facing the hangings around his four-poster. He could see an old photograph of himself with Hermione and Ron smiling down at him from next to the window. It had been taken in their sixth year: they were sitting under the elm tree by the lake, and the Hermione in the frame kept smacking Ron on the arm with a book, while Harry shook his head at them. Harry smiled: Colin had come around right when Ron suggested they dump a particularly annoying first year in the lake to stop him from bothering them anymore.

Colin's dead body flashed in front of Harry's eyes…

Harry's stomach plummeted, and he shut his eyes tightly, wishing it away as though a nightmare. He had had one blissful moment of peace and ignorance before the reality of all those lost had come crashing down on him. Was this how it would be from now on? Would every mundane object serve as a reminder of the pain?

Afraid of what he would see, Harry sat up and turned to look at his two friends. They had never looked worse for wear: Harry could trace cuts, bruises and burns on all their exposed skin, from their fingers, intertwined above the tangled sheets, to the faces resting, a foot apart, on the same pillow. Ron's mouth was open as he gave a great snort, but Hermione's bright eyes were open, inspecting Harry as carefully as he had been her.

'Have you been awake long?' Harry whispered.

Hermione shook her bushy head. 'No, my hand moved when you sat up. It was all I could do to stop myself from jumping out of bed, wand in hand.'

Harry smiled at his friend. 'I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. You should go back to sleep.'

'With the racket he's making, it's a miracle we slept at all the last 9 months…' Hermione sighed.

'Did you just crack a joke, Hermione?' Harry whispered incredulously. 'You're spending too much time with Ronald.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and shooed Harry away with her free hand.

Groaning slightly, Harry stood up and stretched out his limbs. He couldn't believe he had been able to sleep with the pain he now felt all over his body: he felt as though he had just come off the pitch after a particularly long and grueling Quidditch match. He definitely also smelled like it, with the distinct stench of blood, soot and mud emanating from his body. Sloping off towards the bathrooms adjacent to his dormitory, Harry removed his tattered clothes, put his glasses, his watch and his holly and phoenix feather wand down on the soap tray, and turned on the faucet. Grabbing some soap and shampoo, he scrubbed vigorously at the filth on his body, hoping to wash away some of the memories and the feelings of guilt that weighed him down. When he finally felt as though his skin had been rubbed raw, he turned his back to the shower, and let the hot water beat a pattern on his sore back. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind, in the hopes that it would help to numb his churning emotions and focus on the task ahead: getting through the day.

Harry didn't know how long he spent standing in the shower, letting the boiling water soothe his aching muscles; it was only when he heard Ron stumble into the stall next to his, muttering a sleepy "Morning, Harry" to him that Harry opened his eyes again. Somehow, he had concocted a plan of action for the next things he had to do. Grabbing his wand, he summoned a towel and tied it around his waist. Stepping outside the stall, he noticed that the ever-prepared Hermione had laid out his toothbrush and razor by the sink, and fresh clothes and his Invisibility Cloak on a nearby towel rack. No doubt she still had her beaded bag stuffed into her sock.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom into the dormitory feeling like a new man. The room was empty, but he knew Ron and Hermione would return soon. Rummaging around Neville's desk for some parchment and a quill, Harry left a note on their improvised bed telling his friends where he was going. Swinging his father's Cloak over his shoulders, he padded out of the dormitory and down the staircase. Two men in dark red robes stood stationed on either side of the portrait hole. Harry struggled for a moment to figure out how to exit without the two noticing; luckily, the hole opened to allow a bedraggled looking Neville Longbottom into the common room, and Harry was able to sneak out and through the castle with no more obstacles.

Harry had expected to be alone when he reached his destination, but Hermione's bushy head was unmistakable. She turned to smile as she heard him approach; Harry whipped off his cloak, and she ran a finger across his cheek.

'I haven't seen you this clean since…'

'Bill and Fleur's wedding,' Harry completed for her. 'How did you-'

'I knew this would be the first thing you would want to do,' Hermione answered before he could finish his question, gesturing at the white tomb behind her. 'I knew you'd want to return it to where it belonged as soon as possible.'

Harry had avoided looking directly at the tomb until now. 'Thank you,' Harry said, running a finger along the crack where Tom Riddle had violated the gleaming surface.

'For what?' Hermione asked, surprised.

'For taking my stuff out,' Harry replied quietly.

Hermione shrugged. 'I had all of it,' she said, gesturing at her feet, where Harry could just make out the edge of the trusty beaded bag sticking out of her trainer. 'Figured you wouldn't want to run around the castle naked.'

Harry chuckled. 'No, I reckon people finally think I'm normal, don't want them to think I'm starkers again.'

Hermione joined in his laughter- only briefly. 'Oh, Harry. No one thinks you're normal,' she said with a sigh.

'You're right,' Harry's smile fell away. 'They probably never will again. But you're the extraordinary one.' Hermione looked up at Harry. He had grown over the year they had been on the run, and it was never more obvious to her than it was in that moment. 'You're the brains behind everything, Hermione. Ron and I- we would have died about 70 times without you.'

Hermione's lower lip was trembling. Sensing the impending waterworks, Harry pulled her into a hug before continuing. 'Thank you, Hermione. For laying out my clothes and toothbrush this morning. For keeping us safe this whole time. For-'

'For being an insufferable know-it-all!' Ron's voice called from behind them. Harry turned, and Hermione, dragging the back a hand across her face, grabbed a nearby branch and threw it at Ron. Dodging it deftly, Ron approached them. Putting a muscled arm around Hermione, he said, 'I'm telling it like it is. You were being you. If you hadn't been an insufferable know-it-all, we wouldn't have survived a day. Thank you.'

'And you, Ron. You kept us on track, reminded us that we had a purpose, and people worth fighting for,' Harry said, looking at his best friend.

'I left,' Ron said blandly.

'But you came back,' Harry said. 'You're heart was always in the right place, and that's all that matters. I- we,' Harry corrected, looking down at Hermione's shining face, '-couldn't have done it without you.'

Ron's teeth gleamed in the early morning sun as he winked down at Hermione. 'Says the Leader of the Light, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived.'

The three of them laughed; once they started, they couldn't stop. Even as the tears- tears of love for her friends, of gratitude to their luck, of sheer joy just to be alive- flowed unconstrained down Hermione's face, she couldn't help but think that it wasn't height or muscle that they had gained over their nine months on the run: no, they had grown as people- and into people. Anyone looking at them would see three whole and happy teenagers, laughing at an inside joke. But they weren't. They weren't whole, and they weren't happy. This was their rare moment of mirth, a shining pinnacle in a life that had otherwise been a plagued by myriad pains, losses. This moment was the beginning of their healing, where they would replace the wand into the hands of the man who had sent them on this wild journey. They had come full circle. Dumbledore had gotten one thing wrong, Hermione thought. Harry walking into the forest to end his life wasn't the close- this was.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Keep them coming. Here's Chapter Three! Some of it may seem OOC, but humor me for now, and it will all make sense.**

 **Disclaimer: JKR owns this universe.**

 **Chapter Three**

An unspoken understanding had passed between the trio once they had sealed Dumbledore's tomb: they each knew they had become so accustomed to only each others' company that they were not ready to encounter the hustle and bustle of activity that was bound to surround them the moment they entered the castle. Instead, they chose to lounge- mostly in silence- under their favorite beech tree for the greater part of two hours, huddled against the early morning breeze under a blanket Hermione had summoned and watching the giant squid occasionally hurl from the lake a piece of debris from the previous day's battle. It was only when Hermione stood up, dusted herself off and held out her hands to the boys that the other two got to their feet and followed her to the castle. There was a low hum of conversation coming from the Great Hall when they entered the Entrance Hall. They could make out the four house tables, pushed up against the walls to make way for hundreds of sleeping bags, some still occupied by snoring tenants. The trio had just enough time to register the jewels inside the giant repaired hourglasses glittered in the sunlight streaming in through the high windows before a tall, harried-looking wizard in deep green robes appeared by Ron's elbow. 'Mr Potter, there you are! We've been worried sick, thought someone had gotten to you, why didn't you leave a note? I-'

'I did leave a note,' Harry interjected, before the man could continue.

The wizard frowned. 'We searched your entire dormitory, we found nothing of the sort-'

'Sorry!' Ron exclaimed, pulling a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, and thrusting it at the man. 'I didn't think to leave it there, I guess.'

'How _very_ inconsiderate of you-'

Hermione cut across the man as he began to chastise Ron. 'I'm sorry, do we know you?'

He narrowed his eyes at her, before turning to address Harry. 'Mr Potter, my name is Gilbert Dawlish, and I am Junior Undersecretary to the Minister-'

'No, you're not,' Ron interrupted, his ears starting to turn red. 'My brother is. Percy Weasley.'

His eyes barely more than slits, Dawlish answered. 'Your brother _was_ an Undersecretary, yes. However, recent conditions required the minister to hire more than one Undersecretary, and-'

'Are you related to the Auror Dawlish?' Harry enquired.

'Yes, he's my brother, and-'

'And Thicknesse hired you?' Harry continued. Harry felt Hermione's hand brush against his arm as she reached casually towards her pocket, where her wand was.

'Yes,' answered Dawlish impatiently. 'If you're _quite_ done interrogating me, we have some questions for you, if you could follow me.'

Dawlish beckoned, confident the trio would follow, but none of them moved. 'We aren't going anywhere with you,' Hermione quipped.

'I beg your pardon?' Dawlish drew himself up to his full height. 'If I-'

'Sorry, not interested,' Harry said, grabbing Ron and Hermione by the arms and steering them towards the Great Hall. Dawlish made as if to follow them, when the towering figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at the doorway.

'Harry, Hermione, Ron, good to see you up and about,' he rumbled. Looking over their shoulders, he continued. 'Has Dawlish been bothering you?'

'Sir, I was just trying to make them understand that they must come and see you,' spluttered Dawlish.

Kingsley laughed. 'You've been trying to intimidate the wrong crowd, Gilbert. Go and find your brother, and tell him to inform the Aurors in Gryffindor Tower that we've located them.'

Kingsley led them into the hall without a backward glance at the now grumbling Gilbert. 'Merlin, they really pick the pompous type for that job, huh?' Ron said. The four laughed, watching Professor McGonagall levitate empty sleeping bags to a growing pile in a far corner of the room. Harry noted that she had regained full composure; her hair was pulled back into the usual severe bun, and her tone was brisk as she greeted them. Before he could respond, he felt Ron stiffen beside him. Following his line of sight, he saw a huddle of red-heads at the end of the house table closest to them. Hermione passed quickly around Harry to grab Ron's arm and, with a quick nod from Kingsley, they hurried to the family.

Unlike Professor McGonagall, the members of the Weasley family still looked unkempt; even Fleur, usually impeccable in her appearance, looked distinctly disheveled. Harry realized that it wasn't their clothes, which were whole and mercifully clean of blood; no, it was their demeanour. Mr Weasley greeted them with a small smile that faded fast on his unshaven, obviously wretched face. Mrs Weasley didn't even look up from her plate, which was still loaded with breakfast food. Bill nodded silently from his place next to his wife, who managed a wave. Charlie grimaced at them from Fleur's other side. Percy was the only one on his feet- he hurried towards them, glasses slightly askew, and pulled a surprised Ron into a tight hug. Harry spied a mane of long, dark red hair shift on the ground next to Mr Weasley, but Ginny was facing away from him. He quickly averted his eyes. _Ginny._ She was so close; Harry yearned to talk to her, to hear her say anything, but the thought of what she would say scared him. There was only one Weasley he was more terrified to face.

'Percy, what-'

'I was so scared!' Percy's voice came out more high-pitched than usual as he continued to hold on to his youngest brother. 'I thought when- when Fr- I was so scared-'

Realization dawned on Ron's face as he returned his brother's embrace. 'I'm here, Perce. They didn't get me.'

'It's alright, Percy,' consoled Kingsley, clapping him on the back. 'Ron's fine.' Percy emitted a squeaky chuckle as he released Ron. Ron walked over to his mother, sat down and put his arm around her. She leaned against him, but didn't speak, and didn't look up.

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. Harry looked down at her, and in that moment, a flash of understanding passed between them. As much hospitality as the Weasleys had shown them over the years, they both felt like outsiders to this family grief. With a nod, he and Hermione made to turn away.

'Harry, wait.'

The voice cracked as though it had not been used in a while. Harry looked up to see George straightening up behind Mr Weasley. Hermione's surprised 'Oh!' told Harry that she had not realized he was present, either. Harry trained his eyes on his shoelaces as George came to stand in front of him. He had expected George would approach him, but couldn't understand why he would do this in front of the whole Great Hall.

'Are you telling me, if I didn't do this, no one would have?' George asked, addressing his assembled family. 'I can't believe you were all going to let him get away!'

'George, I-' Harry began.

'Harry, look at me.'

'George, please-'

'Shut up, Harry- I said, look at me!' There was edge of urgency in his tone that made Harry meet George's eyes. Harry felt a chill travel down his spine as he took in those blue eyes, so like Ron's. He caught George's arms move in his peripheral vision, and instinctively ducked. Hermione shrieked as George's arms swung at nothing. Percy was at their side in an instant, pushing himself between Harry and George.

'Give it a rest, Percy,' called Ginny, now standing with her hands resting on her father's shoulders.

'You- _you_ think he deserves this?' Percy asked, shocked.

Ginny sighed. 'He wasn't going to hit Harry, Percy.'

Percy blinked confusedly at his sister. Harry braced himself and peered around Percy's lanky frame. 'You weren't trying to hit me?' Harry asked George.

'No, dimwit,' George chucked dryly. He pushed Percy aside and pulled Harry into a hug. Harry returned it briefly, before stepping away. It felt wrong to Harry that he was here, alive, when George's twin was not.

'You should have,' he told George firmly.

'What?' George enquired.

'Hit me,' Harry said quietly. Harry heard Ginny snort, but didn't look at her; he couldn't look at her. He continued. 'George, I'm sorry.'

'Say that again, and I'll do one worse- I'll make my sister Bat-Bogey you,' George said; his strained smile slipped away. 'Thank you,' he said gravely.

'For what?' said Harry.

'For everything. For giving us a way out of this mess,' George gestured around him.

'He's right, you know,' Mr Weasley inserted, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table, before continuing. 'Thank you, Harry. And you, Hermione. None of us would have survived without you three.'

'Everyone didn't make it out,' Harry said, his voice barely audible.

George punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'It was bound to happen. Don't even think about apologizing again, Harry, I take my threats very seriously.'

'I'll say,' Ron said chimed in. 'Hey, George, can my thank you be from Honeydukes, please?'

'You'll get a thank you when I see proof you did anything more than moan and groan like the ghoul that was pretending to be you,' George responded, placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders and squeezing. 'You can have all the Honeydukes you want, Hermione.'

Hermione smiled up at George, unable to speak from fear of being overcome by emotions. George released her and quickly retreated to his place on the floor behind Mr Weasley. Charlie stood up and joined him. It seemed to Harry that even this little interaction had taken a great deal out of the twin. Harry could feel Ginny's gaze on him, but he was actively avoiding meeting it. When he had mentally listed the things he had to do to get through the day, he hadn't planned to be this petrified of looking at Ginny, never mind speaking to her. To his immense relief, Kingsley intervened.

'As much as I'd like for you all to catch up, I'm afraid Harry, Ron and Hermione will have to accompany me to the Ministry of Magic,' he said.

'Surely zey can vait a vhile longer? Per'aps 'ave some food?' Fleur suggested. Harry bit back a laugh as he realized Fleur had taken up Mrs Weasley's role as primary nurturer.

'Don't worry, Fleur, I'll make sure they're fed,' Kingsley said, chortling. 'Ron, anytime you're ready.'

Ron stood and nodded to his father and siblings; Hermione hurried over to give Ginny a quick hug, before the two of them walked back to Harry and Kingsley. Together, they departed the Great Hall, passing by Professor McGonagall once more, who was now conferencing with Professor Flitwick and a ghost on the best way to restore the gargoyle at the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

'What's going to happen to the school?' Hermione asked Kingsley as the crossed the lawn.

Kingsley shrugged. 'The board will have to meet and decide.'

'It has to stay open,' Harry said. He couldn't imagine any other alternative.

Kingsley nodded slowly. 'It's in everyone's interest to keep it open. We're all going to try our best to expedite the process of decision-making, and then repairs.'

No one spoke again until they reached the gate flanked by the giant winged boars. Linking hands loosely, they turned and Disapparated. Kingsley had guided them to the Minister's entrance to the Minstry, which allowed them to bypass the press that had flocked to the main entrance of the Ministry. The Atrium was abuzz with activity. Hermione was just about to voice her hope that removal of the Magic is Might statue was high on the priority list, when Ron grabbed a poster off the floor and showed it to Harry and Hermione. "UNDESIRABLES NO 1 & 2" was emblazoned across their printed faces. 'Is no one going to give me credit?' Ron grumbled, and the group laughed as they took one of the clanging, and blissfully empty, elevators down to Kingsley's office.

Once seated comfortably and brought sandwiches and coffee by a huffy Gilbert Dawlish, Kingsley locked his office door behind him and turned to the trio. 'I know it's a lot, but I need to know what happened.'

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. 'We will tell you what you need to know,' Harry said, weighing each word carefully.

'But it would be completely confidential,' Hermione asserted. 'We would give the press a separate statement.'

'The press?' asked Harry uneasily.

'She's right, Harry,' Kingsley said, leaning against the edge of his desk and crossing his arms. 'The Daily Prophet has already started printing wild stories. Giving them a statement will quash all of that- only temporarily, of course, until you're willing to hold a press conference.'

'A conference?' Harry seemed alarmed now.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. 'Only when we're ready, Harry.' Addressing Kingsley, she said, 'Give me a day to get the statement ready. And we'll be needing immunity, by the way.'

'Naturally,' Kingsley said, handing the three of them sheafs of official-looking parchment. Harry's head was spinning; he looked at Ron, who looked just as dazed by everything.

'How do you know everything?' Ron's words were habitual, his tone was torn between exasperation and awe.

Kingsley chuckled as Hermione shook her head. 'Just sign, Ronald.'

'I trust you, Hermione,' Harry said, before signing his name at the bottom of the front page and handing the document back to Kingsley.

'And I trust Kingsley,' Ron muttered, so only Harry could hear him.

'Now that that's out of the way…' Kingsley prompted.

Harry sighed, and began, 'At the beginning of my first year at Hogwarts…'


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Sorry about the wait.**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these characters belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter Four**

A pregnant pause filled the room as Harry hesitated. They had encountered these awkward moments a few times already: trying to find a way around mentioning the fact the Ron had left them while on the run; describing the visions the locket had projected when Ron had tried to destroy it; Hermione stating rather matter-of-factly the extent of torture Bellatrix Lestrange had put her through. They were no strangers to agitated silences and uncomfortable glances at one another. Hermione had chewed off all her fingernails over the course of the morning, and Harry's hair was a veritable crow's nest from the number of times he'd run his fingers through it.

This was a different kind of silence though, because Ron and Hermione had not been with him when he had made the decision to walk into the Forbidden Forest. For once, they did not share Harry's uneasiness, his uncertainty. No one had spoken in almost five minutes.

Harry couldn't remain motionless any longer. Getting to his feet, he squeezed around the back of the sofa they were seated on and past Kingsley's chair. There wasn't much space- there were rolls of parchment, broken quills and cuttings from the Daily Prophet littered across the desk and trailing to the floor, but Harry didn't care what he was stepping on as he paced around the Minister's office.

'Maybe we should take a break,' Hermione broke the silence.

There was another pause, the only sound in the room the crunching of parchment under Harry's feet.

'I could order more sandwiches,' Kingsley suggested, making to get out of his seat.

'Don't,' Harry said, finally pausing. He bent down to pick up a crumpled page from what seemed to be a copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. A photograph of the Dumbledore siblings smiled up at him. Harry smoothed out the sheet of paper, taking in the affection in Albus Dumbledore's eyes as he watched Aberforth and Ariana squabble playfully. Harry remembered the night of the final Triwizard task, when he had returned from the graveyard with Cedric's body and had been urged by Dumbledore to tell the tale in one great swoop. Imagining that Sirius still stood beside him, hand on his shoulder, Harry took a deep breath, and told Hermione, Ron, and Kingsley about Snape's memories, about through the silent castle and into the Forest. When Harry spoke of discovering the power of the Resurrection Stone, Hermione choked on her sobs and stumbled out of her seat to pull Harry into a tight embrace. Harry knew she meant it to be comforting, but now that he had started telling the tale, he didn't want to stop. Moving as quickly out of her embrace as he could without hurting her feelings, he continued, allowing her to hold his hand as he told them about leaving behind the Stone, of finding the Death Eaters in the forest, and finally, of meeting Voldemort's Killing Curse. He had expected some disbelief or ridicule from Hermione, and perhaps even Kingsley, as he recollected his conversation with Dumbledore at King's Cross. But as he paused to look at her tentatively, Hermione smiled up at him.

'Oh, Harry, you haven't changed one bit,' she said, tear tracks shining on her weather-worn face.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked, confused, as Ron and Kingsley laughed.

'We escaped from a Death Eater attack at a wedding and a London café in one night, trespassed a Ministry hearing, battled with a giant snake disguised as an old woman, escaped from Malfoy Manor thanks to a mirror and a house elf, broke into Gringotts and escaped on the back of a dragon, charged into Hogwarts to find something we didn't know existed, and harvested memories from an dying man we all despised- all on the whims of a dead man!' Hermione rattled off in one breath. 'After the number of times that you have avoided death in front of my very eyes, do you think I would doubt you now, _now,_ when you're finally telling me that you met the said dead man, when you can tell us whether or not he was satisfied?'

'Yeah, when has Hermione ever shrugged off praise from a teacher?' Ron sniggered, earning a smack on the arm from Hermione.

'What I'm saying, Harry, is that of course I believe you,' Hermione finished coolly.

'Yeah, mate, even Xenophilius Lovegood couldn't make that up,' Ron added.

Harry laughed, and reclaimed his seat as he resumed the story, catching them up to the point where Mrs Weasley had taken care of Bellatrix Lestrange. 'You know the rest,' he said, tipping his head back against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. A curious sense of relief settled over him. He knew that this was only the first time, and that this story would have to be retold several more times, that he owed it to many more people. But at least now he could begin to heal.

'Thank you,' Kinglsey said. Harry opened his eyes at the raw emotion in his voice, and saw that, for once, the powerful wizard before him had succumbed to tears. It was clear that he was thanking them, not just for sharing their story, but for doing everything that they done done. Hermione, who had remained standing, walked over to Kingsley and squeezed his shoulder.

'We've all lost a great deal in this war,' she said soothingly. 'You've been so brave in taking up the mantle since it ended, Kingsley, but please take some time to take care of yourself.'

Kingsley sighed heavily. 'These are tears of relief, Hermione,' he said. 'Tears of a wounded soldier, tears of a guilty survivor. Remus, Tonks…'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, automatically.

Ron thumped him on the shoulder. 'Harry, you have to stop apologizing! None of this is your fault!'

'If I had just given myself up sooner…' Harry began, but Kingsley cut across him, holding up a hand to stop him.

'No, Harry. You do not get to shoulder this burden on your own. We are all just as guilty as you are, that is to say, not guilty of anything more than feeling relief at being alive, at surviving against all the odds when others did not. The three of you have shouldered responsibilities far greater than should have been asked of you, and I could not be more grateful, but you remain inexperienced in many ways. Take it from a man who got over one war only to be thrown into a second, far more debilitating one- the best way to heal is to celebrate surviving.' Kinglsey's face split into a wide grin as he continued. 'And if that isn't enough, take it from a man who went to Hogwarts in the era of the Marauders- the only way to live is by celebrating every moment. Harry, your parents would want you to be happy. As would Remus, and Sirius.'

'And so would Fred,' Ron said, more to himself than anyone else. Hermione moved from Kingsley's side to sit between Harry and Ron once more, patting the latter on his arm.

'So about those sandwiches you mentioned,' Harry said, and Ron let out a watery laugh.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Ministry of Magic, the late afternoon sun was shielded behind a cluster of dark grey clouds. After finishing their account of what ended up being the past seven years of their lives- which had taken the greater part of the morning- Ron and Harry had popped into the Department of Magical Transportation to pick up their Apparation licenses, while Kingsley helped arrange a series of portkeys in a week's time to get Hermione to Australia to find her parents. They discussed hosting a memorial ceremony at Hogwarts for those who had been killed, tried to decide where to bury Severus Snape, what to do with Voldemort's corpse, and what they would put in the press release for the Daily Prophet; they even began to draft it, Hermione enthused by the idea of having something to write. Harry noticed Ron becoming quieter and more fidgety as the afternoon progressed. The four of them passed through the Auror Office to get updates on the fugitive Death Eaters, before heading to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where they discussed briefly with the a member of the Goblin Liaison team what Harry would have to do in order to gain access to his vault. After setting up a meeting with them the same day as Hermione's portkeys, Harry, Ron and Hermione bid farewell to Kingsley and headed out to Muggle London.

'Shall we get a bite of dinner?' Hermione suggested, pointing to a nearby café.

'I'm starving,' Harry said by way of agreeing. The two started to cross the road before realizing Ron hadn't moved. Hermione and Harry exchanged confused glances.

'Is everything okay, mate?' Harry asked. Ron not expressing interest in food was alarming, at the very least.

'Of course _you_ would ask that,' Ron said scathingly. 'We've been sitting around all day, taking care of _your_ Gringotts problems, and _your_ Apparition license, and-'

'You got one, too!' Harry interjected.

'Whatever- you don't have a family to waiting for you, a family that's falling apart at the seams, you don't understand!'

'Ron, you shouldn't have said that!' Hermione exclaimed. 'That was so unkind of you!'

'And you! Your family is all tucked away, safe and sound across the world. You're going to see them soon enough, leave us all here to wallow!' He shrugged off Hermione's attempts to grab his hand. 'You two enjoy dinner, I'm going back to the people who get me, who _need_ me.'

He turned on the spot, in the crowded Muggle street, and Disapparated. Harry could tell Hermione was barely holding back her sobs and dragged her into a side alley, where she proceeded to throw her arms around Harry and bawl.

'It'll be fine, Hermione,' he said, patting her on the back. 'It was hard on all of us, telling that story; he'll get over it.'

'How could he think we're any less upset than him?' Hermione's voice was muffled by Harry's jumper as she continued to blubber into his shoulder. 'How could he think it wasn't hard for us, doing all those stupid administrative things while we could be mourning Tonks, or Colin, or any of them-'

'I reckon he's actually just hungry,' Harry shrugged, and Hermione giggled at Harry's feeble attempt at a joke. 'C'mon, Mione, let's get some food and give Ron some time to cool off.'

Nodding, Hermione followed Harry into the café, where they ordered a pizza to share and a bowl of pasta each. They talked about Hermione's plans to search for her parents once she reached Australia ('I'm fairly certain they would want to live in Sydney, they do so love sailing, and the opera!'), about how terrible she felt leaving them behind ('I just think they'd appreciate some time alone with me, and hopefully give me the chance to make up for what I did'). Harry had no comfort to offer her, so he mostly listened as his best friend expressed all her anxieties about travelling to a new place, and deciphered the apprehension hidden behind her words about whether or not her parents would be safe, or would forgive her; he lost himself in the comfort of her familiar chatter as he ploughed through their delicious Italian food. Once they were done, Hermione fished some Muggle cash out of her beaded bag and, arm in arm, they returned to the alleyway and Disapparated back to Hogsmeade.

'Ready?' Harry asked Hermione.

'Ready,' she affirmed, and together they headed towards the gate to Hogwarts. They had sent a patronus to Professor McGonagall asking to let them back into the castle. Harry felt his dinner churn in his belly; he would have recognized the slight figure waiting just beyond the wrought iron gates anywhere.

'Maybe I should have asked you that question,' Hermione said, barely holding back her laughter.

'Do you think she's seen us?' Harry whispered conspiratorially. 'No chance we could turn back? I could go hide out at Grimmauld Place…'

Hermione smacked him lightly on the chest. 'Oh, Harry, don't make it sound so terrible! She's missed you as much as you've missed her.'

Harry groaned. 'That's what I'm afraid of.'

'Hi Ginny!' Hermione called, waving to her friend as they approached.

'Hi Hermione, hi Harry,' Ginny said, smiling. Harry managed an indistinct mumble in response, and Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I have to ask you something only you would know,' Ginny continued. 'So Hermione, what did you see when you faced the Boggart in your third year Defence exam?'

'McGonagall telling me I'd failed all my exams,' Hermione replied.

Harry laughed. 'I'd forgotten about that. Merlin, Hermione, your priorities have always been messed up.' Hermione giggled.

'And you,' Ginny began.

'Shouldn't Hermione be able to account for the fact that I'm me?' Harry offered hurriedly, afraid of the kind of information Ginny would make Harry divulge.

'You're not getting off that easily,' Ginny said, eyes narrowed, confirming Harry's fears. 'Tell me, when was the first time you let it slip to me that you were going off to kill Voldemort.'

Harry looked up from his trainers and met Ginny's eyes for the first time. 'We were setting the table at the Burrow for dinner, last summer, the night before the Delacours arrived. You remember that?'

'I couldn't forget,' Ginny said, and Harry's mind reeled as he tried to decode whether there was any double meaning to her words. He wished he could ask Hermione, but as Ginny opened the gate to allow them to enter, there was no way he could get her attention without the redhead noticing. The two girls hugged, and Harry let them take the lead as they walked back up towards the castle. He took in the scorch marks on the lawn; some of the rubble had been cleared, but the wall of the west wing of the castle was mostly gone. Harry thought he could see what used to be his Charms classroom, and was about to ask Hermione, when Ginny's voice caught his attention.

'Ron's being a prat,' she said. 'He told us he left you two by the Ministry after you were done meeting with Kingsley.'

'It's our fault, too,' Hermione said. 'We could have been more sensitive to his needs, I suppose. We just assumed he would be excited by the idea of a solid meal before coming back…'

Ginny shrugged. 'That would be a fair assumption, it is Ron after all. Mum was beside herself, but I reckon it's a shame George wasn't around.'

'Why?' Harry inquired, afraid of the answer.

'Because the only time George has spoken since he found out about Fred was when he saw you this morning.'

'What?' Harry exclaimed. 'He isn't…talking?'

Ginny shook her head. 'It took Mum a while to find her words too, but Ron coming back without the two of you got her to come around. Being able to let off some steam was good for her, so I thought maybe it would be good for George, too. He might have thrown a punch or two as well, and Ron deserves it for yelling at you two and leaving, so he would have taken them.'

'Wait till you hear about the last time that happened.' The words slipped from him before he could stop himself, and Hermione's eyes widened with horror as Ginny came to a stop.

'Last time what happened?'

'Oh, you know, Ron being a prat,' Hermione tried to play it off with a laugh, but her unnaturally high tone gave it away.

'Please, Hermione, you're worse at lying than he is,' Ginny snorted, gesturing at Harry.

'Hey!' he protested.

'Oh, really, now?' Ginny snorted. 'Tell me, then, Potter, what happened the last time Ron was a prat?'

'Er,' Harry glanced at Hermione for help, but Hermione's eyes were darting between the Ginny's back and the doors to the castle, as though assessing whether she could make a break for it.

'Hermione, you can go,' Ginny dismissed, without taking her eyes off of Harry. 'Harry and I have some things to discuss.'

 _Coward,_ he thought to himself as Hermione shot Harry an apologetic look and hurried towards the castle. He couldn't really blame her, thought. If he hadn't been pinned to his spot by Ginny's razor-sharp gaze, he would be running full-tilt towards the Entrance Hall. Ginny's reputation for having inherited her mother's towering temper, not to mention her prowess with the Bat-Bogey Hex, preceded her, and no one- not Hermione, the smartest witch of their age, or Harry, the Chosen One, probably not even Godric Gryffindor himself- wanted to get on Ginevra Molly Weasley's bad side.

Too bad for Harry that he'd done absolutely everything possible to infuriate Ginny over the past year. Harry sighed as he met Ginny's blazing eyes, and thought, _boy, am I in for it now._

 **Sorry for the cliff-hanger! Review, and maybe I'll update soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This one's a bit longer! Enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: HP universe belongs to JKR.**

 **Chapter Five**

'Ginny-'

Ginny held up a hand, and Harry fell silent immediately, following the redhead as she continued to stride purposefully away from the castle. They rushed through the twilit grounds, and Harry knew exactly the spot she was leading him to; his stomach clenched as memories of sun-drenched hours flooded his mind. Once they had cleared Hagrid's hut, Ginny broke into a run, Harry less than a step behind her. By the time they reached the weeping willow halfway around the lake, both were wheezing. Harry leaned up against the gnarled trunk for support, hands on knees, his glasses slightly askew as he tried to catch his breath. Their panting subsided within a minute, but neither of them spoke for three more. During the fifth minute, a pair of scuffed up trainers stepped into his view.

Still unable to look at her, Harry broke the silence. 'I'm sorry.'

'That isn't enough.'

'I know.' He wondered absently what had possessed her to buy pink trainers. The realization that her once white shoes were now tinged with blood left him feeling sick- sicker than he already felt.

'You let me believe you were dead.'

Harry's gaze snapped up to meet hers; he hadn't expected to see terror mingled with the fury and ache kindling in her eyes. Harry's heart throbbed in his throat to think he had caused this pain, and he knew he deserved her anger, but he didn't understand why she was still afraid.

'I- I didn't have a choice.'

'There's always a choice.'

'Never a good one.'

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest. 'Explain.'

Harry hesitated. 'I… I can't. Gin, not right now.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Harry reached out to touch her arm, but she stepped swiftly out of his reach. 'Don't touch me.'

Harry sighed. 'Ginny, I've had an awfully long day, and I'm exhausted, and-'

'Exhausted? You're exhausted?' Ginny let out a dry laugh. 'Well, then I'd better let it go, hadn't I? Be a good little girl, and wait for the great Harry Potter to get some sleep before he's ready to tell me why-'

'You don't understand-'

'Then MAKE ME!' Ginny's threw her arms in the air, her eyes glinting with unbridled fury. 'Make me understand, Harry Potter, because you up and left me, without giving me any reason. I let you go, because I UNDERSTOOD. But yesterday, yesterday I lost a brother, I lost a brother- a _brother._ You knew he was gone, you knew my loss, and I don't know why it had to be _him_ , I don't understand why it couldn't be someone else. And then you LEFT ME AGAIN. I thought you were gone forever, so you sure as bloody hell better be able to make me understand why YOU HAD TO MAKE ME BELIEVE YOU WERE DEAD.'

'I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.' The words exploded out of him, and he looked away, gritting his teeth.

'You-'

'And all I could think about before I died…' Harry took a deep breath. 'All I thought about in the moments before Voldemort cursed me was you, you and your lips against mine, and how much I… just you.'

There was a pause.

'You thought you were going to die.' It wasn't a question. Harry took a deep breath and looked up. Ginny's arms were limp at her sides, and her eyes were closed. For a moment it looked like she was going to lose her balance as her mind reeled from processing this information. Harry's arms shot out to stabilize her, but she flinched away as though stung by him. 'I thought I told you not to touch me.' He dropped his arms.

'Tell me why you're afraid.'

'Because I can't believe that you're actually here,' she said matter-of-factly, as though that was the silliest question she'd ever heard. Her eyes rwere squeezed shut, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that, for once, she was fighting back tears. 'I feel like you could disappear at any moment. Vanish into thin air, or run away, or… I saw- I saw your dead body. I t-thought I'd never see your eyes again. I don't want to be s- I know I should care about the fact that you didn't have a choice, that you did what you thought was best but-' She gulped noisily. 'I'm being selfish. All I can think about is that you were willing to let it all go. Let me go. Leave me behind, after I'd just lost my brother.'

'Ginny,' Harry said quietly. 'You aren't being selfish.' She snorted. 'Alright, you are. But that's okay. You're allowed to be selfish. You didn't just lose a brother- you lost Fred. We lost Fred.' Ginny opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was astonished at her restraint, her strength. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she held them back with force that Harry did not have; his face was soaked. Her small hand came up to brush against his left cheek, wiping some away; her palm then moved across his face and rested on his right cheek, sweeping away more wtness with her thumb. Closing his eyes and leaning into the warmth of her hand, Harry continued. 'Ginny, I had to do what I did. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside me, and the only way he could be killed was if the piece inside me died. The only way to kill the piece inside me was if Voldemort tried to kill me.'

Suddenly, Harry felt contaminated. The magnitude of his revelation hit him. He had housed a slice of Voldemort's soul within him for sixteen years. How did he know he was safe? How could he be sure he wasn't a threat to others? To Ginny? How had he been so callous? It had been fine while he was with both Ron and Hermione there- they could back each other up, and they knew what they were up against. But Ginny alone? The thought made him want to turn around and run, run far away, to be certain before he let others be so vulnerable around him. His eyes flew open.

'I have to-'

'You're not going anywhere.' Ginny cut across him. Harry cursed mentally- he'd forgotten how well Ginny could read him. He started to push away from the tree, but in one swift motion Ginny's hand left his cheek and snatched her wand out of the back pocket of her shorts. She pointed it at him. 'I said, you're not going anywhere.'

'You shouldn't keep your wand in your back pocket,' Harry said weakly.

Ginny scowled. 'What? Why?'

'Mad-Eye always said you could lose a buttock. That would be a real shame.'

Ginny rolled her eyes at his feeble attempt at flirting, but assured that he wouldn't try to escape again, she put her wand arm down and nodded, bidding Harry to pick up the conversation where it had left off. 'They're called Horcruxes.'

'Horcrux.' She rolled the word off her tongue as though she was learning a new language. 'So, you were a Horcrux.'

Harry nodded, his expression pained. 'I know it must be terrifying, and repulsive, and I understand if it makes you want to- want to stay away from me, and-'

He was interrupted by a burst of dark laughter. 'Then you must feel the same about me.'

Harry's brow furrowed. 'What? Why?'

'Because if there was ever an object that held Tom's soul, it was his diary.'

Harry blinked a few times in rapid succession. 'How- how did you know?'

Ginny shrugged. 'You know better than anyone else how much I loved that damn diary,' she said bitterly. 'You hated the part of you that connected you to Tom, but I- I loved having him around. So if anything,' she drew a breath. 'If anything, you should want to stay away from me.'

'Never,' Harry said without hesitation.

'Then _you_ can never ask me to stay away from you,' Ginny said shrewdly, her eyes narrowed up at Harry; in that moment, Harry knew that he had lost the battle.

Ginny turned away and said, with a genuine laugh, 'Oh, Harry, what chance did you ever have of winning against me?' With a wave of her wand, she conjured a blanket, and laid it by the edge of the lake.

'Maybe I just like losing to you,' he muttered, as he watched her pull off her shoes and socks.

If she heard him, she didn't show it. Instead, she gestured to the blanket and said, 'Seems like you have a lot to catch me up on. Might as well get comfortable.' With a sigh, Harry complied.

An hour and twenty-three minutes had passed. Darkness had truly settled around him. Harry had just finished telling Ginny about Dumbledore at King's Cross Station and, like earlier that day in the Ministry, a silence ensued in the moments after the conclusion of his story. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Ginny's mention of Tom Riddle's diary and the events of his second year had reminded him that she would be the last person on earth to doubt or judge him. Telling Ginny about what had happened had been easier than telling Kingsley. It had been easier than talking to Hermione or Ron about it, even though they had been there. Ginny always understood him. Being with Ginny, Harry remembered, was easier than breathing.

As he gave her time to mull over her thoughts, he looked up at the willow that curved over their heads and tipped into the lake. In a flash, he recalled the warm Saturday morning that Ginny had decided to climb the tree.

 _He had lain in this very spot, on the same dark green blanket, watching her tiptoe with the precision of a trapeze artist along the boughs of the ancient tree until she reached its highest point. Flashing a grin at Harry, she threw her arms over her head and dove into the lake. Harry sat up just in time to see the water splash around her arched body. Five seconds later, her head bobbed back up; her drenched hair streamed down her back as she laughed and turned her face up to the sun. Without thinking twice, Harry had pulled off his t-shirt and cannon-balled into the water. She tittered as the water splattered against her face, before Harry came up below her and grabbed her around the waist. She locked her arms around his neck, and he placed a soft kiss on her button nose._

His reverie was broken by the soft sounds of the lake lapping against the bank. The reflection of the castle on the pristine black surface of the water was distorted where Ginny's feet disappeared beneath its surface. This Ginny's face was drawn and pale. The bags under her eyes were dark purple, and even in the dim light from the castle, Harry could see faded scars on her cheeks and neck that had not been there before.

'It's your turn,' Harry said simply.

'Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?' Ginny said. She had braided her hair while listening to Harry tell his tale, purely to have something to do with her hands, Harry presumed. Now her fingers jumped unconsciously to a scar that started at the back of her ear and continued across the back of her neck and down to the opposite shoulder. The happy-go-lucky, tree-climbing Ginny was gone; but then, so was reckless, cannon-balling Harry. The phantoms of their past would follow them wherever they went, whether the blissful, sunny, lake-jumping ones, or the sinister shadows of death and destruction that plagued the wrecked and hollow castle at this very moment.

'What did they do to you?'

Ginny shrugged. 'It wasn't as bad as it sounds.' She gestured to her face. 'Or looks.'

'You always look beautiful to me.'

Ginny smiled sadly and patted the hand that rested between them on the flannel blanket. 'The first night we were back, they dragged me out of bed to interrogate me. I don't think Snape had authorized it, because when he got there- half an hour later, once Neville, Colin, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati and I had all been tortured-' Harry let out a low growl. '-when he got there, he kind of dismissed them. They wanted to get information about you, and intimidate everyone else, I suppose, since the whole House came down from the screams…

'They hadn't brought out the knives that night, just the Cruciatus, but we knew we weren't safe. We knew we had to do… something.'

Ginny was staring intently at the water, her eyes ablaze; Harry was torn between his desire to punch or kick something, to cause pain to those had hurt his friends, had hurt _her_ , and his need to protect her now, to hold her. His fingers flexed involuntarily, and Ginny noticed; of course Ginny noticed, understood his need. She gripped his hand in hers, and laced their fingers together. Harry returned her pressure, and she continued to speak without removing her gaze from the lake. 'It was Luna's idea to restart the D.A. I just wanted to cause some mayhem, you know, F-Fred and George style. But once Luna got the idea of the D.A. into his head, Neville was relentless. He wanted to teach people, to protect the younger kids, to… show up those evil sons of bitches.

'In class, they didn't Cruciatus as too much. Mostly, they'd resort to knifework if we got too sassy, or refused to follow orders. Sometimes we got sent to Snape, but he just made us sit in his office for hours and stare at us. That's what happened when we tried to steal the sword. He kept us cooped up in his office for three hours, before telling us that we'd have detention with Hagrid. We were relieved, we thought he'd have us hanging from the dungeon ceiling or something, and we didn't understand it then but-' she sighed. 'It makes sense now.'

'Did Carrow-' Harry began. 'Amycus Carrow, did he ever try anything… worse?'

Ginny closed her eyes and nodded silently. 'Twice. Once with Luna, and once with… He- he tried to- to force me, during detention, but Flitwick and McGonagall got wind of it, and they took it to Snape, and it didn't happen again.' She paused. 'The next day, he gave me this.' She gestured to the scar on the back of her neck that Harry had noticed earlier.

Harry snarled as his first met the ground with a resounding thud. 'I'm going to kill that bastard with my bare-'

'He's dead, Harry.' Ginny was finally looking back at him, her eyes morose, her tone even. 'Flitwick killed him.'

'Good riddance,' he growled. Unable to contain his bubbling fury and hatred, his restless energy any longer, he jumped to his feet. Ginny watched him carefully as he paced around her. 'How? How can you talk about this so calmly?'

Ginny shrugged again, and her nonchalance ate away at Harry. 'We've all had to do our share in this war. That was mine.'

'But I left to protect you!' Harry exclaimed. 'I thought you were safe in the castle, thought I had done the right thing-'

'You did do the right thing,' Ginny stated forcefully. 'But you can't protect everyone all the time, Harry, and not from everything. This was my war as much as it was yours, I lost a brother to it. This was my war, and I'm glad you left me behind. I did my part at Hogwarts, because that was where I was needed.'

'You don't think I needed you?' Ginny thought Harry looked quite deranged as he threw his arms up in the air. Taking a deep breath, he knelt down and cupped her face in his hands. 'I watched your dot every day, on that bloody map, every day, to make sure you were still alive. Hermione probably thought I was nuts. I hated that I had to hurt you to protect you. Ron and Hermione had each other, could protect each other if they had to but that- that dot,' Harry's gaze was so intense that Ginny knew she couldn't hold on to her anger if she kept looking for much longer. 'That dot was my lifeline,' he whispered. 'It was all that kept me sane.'

Ginny broke away from his gaze and looked back at the water. 'No one hates to say it more than I do, Harry, but you did the right thing when you broke up with me at Dumbledore's funeral, even if it was for the wrong reasons. You didn't hurt me because you left, you hurt me because you underestimated me and my importance here. You couldn't protect me, but I still did my part, and I'm proud.'

She could feel Harry's eyes still trained on her. 'I'm proud of you too, Gin, so proud. I'm sorry for underestimating you. I'm sorry I hurt you- you have to know that was never my intention. You're right, it was your war, too.'

'It was.' She could feel churning emotions starting to overwhelm her. 'It was my war. It was Neville's war, and Luna's. It was all of ours. It was Tonks's, and Lupin's. It was Colin's. It was Fred's. It was Fred's…' She broke. ' _It was Fred's_.'

Tears that she had been battling to hold back for so long as she remained strong for her mother, for her father, for her dead brother's twin, those scalding hot tears came gushing out of her. Sobs wrenched through the air. Harry hesitated for just a moment, before wrapping his arms around her; as she burrowed her face into his shoulder and fisted her hands in his jumper, the dam inside of her finally ruptured and she could hold it in no longer. They sat there like that for what felt like hours as Harry cradled her head, soothed her with nonsensical words, his own tears dripping off the end of his nose into her long hair. They sat there as Ginny Weasley cried herself dry, until all she had left were a parched throat, stinging eyes and sticky lips.

Pulling slowly away from her brother's best friend, her ex-boyfriend, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen one, Ginny looked into his eyes. 'I loved my brother, and I lost him to this war. We had everything to fight for and everything to lose, so don't you dare for a second feel guilty, or that my pain is your fault. My pain is my responsibility, and my burden to carry.'

Harry nodded solemnly. 'I understand.'

'Good.'

'Does that mean your pain is also your burden to share? Because if it is-' Harry took a deep breath. '-If it is, then I will be here, as long as you want me to, to help you carry it, when you feel like sharing it.'

Ginny smiled at him wryly, as she got to her feet and Vanished the blanket and magicked her socks and trainers back on. Harry stood up. Yes, Harry had lost the battle to Ginny tonight; she, with her wit, her strength, her emotion and her sheer essence, had overpowered his desire for solitude and his need to sleep. But as they walked slowly back towards the castle, Ginny took his hand and Harry knew that while he had lost the battle, he had won the war.

 **This chapter was really difficult to get right, but I hope you liked it! I welcome feedback (goof or bad), so leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who left wonderful reviews for the last chapter! Sorry about all the typos, though- I hate proofreading. Enjoy the *quick* update!**

 **Disclaimer: If I was as rich as JKR, I'd have built my own Hogwarts by now, house-elves and all.**

 **Chapter Six**

Harry knew that Ginny's first reaction to seeing Ron after hearing about their adventures up and down the British countryside would be a kick in the groin- if her brother was lucky. So when the Fat Lady's portrait swung open to reveal the Weasley family assembled by the fireplace, Harry blocked Ginny's path through the hole.

'He deserves it,' Ginny said to Harry evenly; he was alarmed by the absence in her expression of any trace of the mischief that usually accompanied threats of violence.

'He doesn't,' Harry rebutted.

'He abandoned you and Hermione twice!' she hissed. Harry grabbed her hand as she reached for her pocket- all would be lost if she managed to grab her wand.

'Gin, your family doesn't need this right now,' he implored. Her menacing glare softened. 'Your mother doesn't need to see her children fighting.'

'I know what you're doing,' she said. She stopped straining against his grip and took a deep breath. 'The only way I won't hex him now is if you promise to let me do it later. With less of an… audience.'

Harry weighed his options. Recalling her irrepressible fury towards him earlier that evening and sensing all of it had not dissipated, he wasn't certain even he would survive the brunt of her hexes if he got in the way.

'Are you going to leave me hanging all night?' called the Fat Lady grumpily. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

'Fine,' he yielded, releasing her hand. She smirked at him in the way that always took his breath away as she sidestepped him; he stumbled through portrait hole after her, eliciting a snort of laughter from Ron, who sat in an armchair by the fire. Hermione and Percy sat across from him, poring over a piece of parchment that he guessed was the statement for the press. Fleur sat between her parents-in-law, chatting away animatedly with Mrs Weasley, while Mr Weasley and Bill watched amusedly. George and Charlie were notably absent. As Ginny seated herself on the arm of Bill's chair, Mrs Weasley looked up.

'Harry!' she exclaimed, extracting herself from her conversation. Fleur looked disgruntled to be cut across. 'I'm glad you made it back alright.'

'No thanks to Ron,' Bill muttered, and Ginny sniggered.

'Yes, well, he knows better now, doesn't he?' Mrs Weasley said, a hint of threat in her voice. Ron winced at the reference to the shouting match that had ensued when he had arrived, hours previously, at the Great Hall during dinnertime without his friends. Harry could tell he was dreading the moment he, Harry and Hermione would have to tell the Weasleys what had happened while they were on the run.

The fire crackled behind Ron. This entire set up of the Weasleys, gathered around the hearth, was too casual for Harry. He knew from each of their faces that none of them had forgotten the loss of one of their members, that their concern for George surpassed even their grief for their lost son and brother. Yet they sat here, feigning normalcy and attempting banter in order to support one another, and Harry marveled at their poise in the face of tragedy, when he himself wanted to go running through the Forbidden Forest, howling, so no one could hear him.

To distract himself from wondering whether it worth a shot to make himself feel better, Harry studied the Common Room. It was mostly intact, if a little untidier than usual. He finally found the person he was looking for seated by a small window in the corner. As Harry approached, Neville looked up from petting Arnold, and pushed aside a stack of papers so Harry could take the seat opposite him.

'They got rid of the Aurors in the Common Room?'

Neville nodded. 'The wards around the grounds have been put back up, and the Aurors were needed at Ministry to help round up the last of the Death Eaters. They still have people patrolling the castle though.'

'We should be helping,' Harry said, unconsciously rubbing his scar.

Neville smiled sadly at Harry. 'I offered to, but Kingsley and Auror Robards said we've earned a break. I reckon they're right. Besides, they said they'd get in touch once things had settled down a bit at the Ministry more to assign us with tasks, if we want them.'

'Really?' Harry had spent the day at the Ministry, and no one had mentioned any such thing.

'Yeah, and Harry, they're right- if I've earned a bit of a break, you've earned about a lifetime's worth.'

Harry laughed. 'You know me, I love the quiet life.' Neville guffawed quietly. While Neville's company was soothing, Harry found it difficult to look at him without thinking about the atrocities that had occurred at his school over the past year. A pale scar ran the length of Neville's right cheek, and there looked to be a half-healed burn on his forehead. Harry felt bile beginning to rise at the thought of what the war had done to his once awkward, bumbling friend.

'How are things between you and Ginny?' Neville interrupted his mental tirade.

Harry cast a glance at the Weasley girl: she sat on Bill's lap, twirling her long braid in her hands as she spoke quietly to her favorite brother. He could not see her expression. 'They're… better,' he managed, unsure of what to make of their recent encounter.

'Bet she gave you a rough time.' Harry barked out a laugh and Neville nodded sagely. 'You know it's only because she missed you.'

'I know,' Harry responded.

'Does her family know about you two? Or… well, that there used to be a you two?'

Harry wondered whether Neville had been spending too much time with Luna. He seemed to have picked up her habit of asking the most uncomfortably honest questions. 'I don't know,' Harry answered, his skin prickling at the thought of the legion of six- no, five- brothers knowing that he had had a relationship with their only sister.

Neville chuckled, and patted him on the shoulder. 'It'll be alright, mate. They think you're family, anyway.'

'Not quite the same thing, though, is it?' Harry sighed.

'No, not really. Did she tell you about Hogwarts?' Harry's eyes shot up to meet Neville's dark blue ones. He nodded slowly. 'We thought the D.A. was the best way to fight back, even if we branched out a bit. We did our best, Luna, Ginny and I- we weren't quite like you three, but-'

'You did well,' Harry said, surprised at the hesitant tone in Neville's voice. Why was this daring, tough, battle-worn model of Neville still seeking Harry's approval? 'You did more than we could have. You were smart about it. If I had to deal with the Carrows… I would have gotten killed the first day.'

'I just thought about how much I hated them. Them, Voldemort, Bellatrix… It kept me going. I'm glad Bellatrix is dead.'

Harry looked up at Neville's fervent expression, and a thought that had begun to form deep in his mind since he had watched Neville pull Gryffindor's sword from the Sorting Hat and kill Nagini finally came back to him. Sitting up, he said, 'Neville, I have to tell you something. It's… well, it's important for you to know something.'

Neville's brow furrowed. 'Do you need me to do something?'

'No, it's nothing like that. It's just…' Harry cast a wary glance around, pulled out his wand and muttered 'Muffliato' to ensure that Parvati and a sixth year girl seated nearby would not be able to eavesdrop. With a deep breath, he began. 'The prophecy that smashed in the Department of Mysteries- it wasn't the only record of it.'

'You heard the real one?' Neville asked, leaning forward in his seat. Harry wondered whether his friend would be as curious if he knew what was coming.

'Yes, Dumbledore let me listen to it later that night. It spoke of a boy that Voldemort would mark as his equal, and give him a power that he knew not, and that neither could live while the other survives.'

'So you are the Chosen One!' Neville exclaimed, a genuine smile appearing on his haggard face.

'Sort of…Voldemort made me the chosen one. It could have been another person, too. The prophecy… it referred to a boy born at the end of July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort.'

Lingering confusion on Neville's face cleared up. 'Me?'

'You. I'm not sure why he came after me, Neville. Dumbledore thought it was because he saw more of himself in me, a half-blood. But,' Harry hesitated briefly, trying to think of how Dumbledore would have phrased it. 'He marked you as his equal, too.'

'No, Harry, you killed him. And you have the scar,' Neville said, quietly, sparing a glance for Harry's forehead.

'There are marks that run further than just skin deep, Neville. When his followers tortured your parents, took them from you… you were marked with the same power I was. The power that you drew on when you fought the Carrows, it wasn't hate. It was-'

'Love,' Neville finished for him, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 'You're right, Harry. It's what we were all marked with,' Neville gestured around at the Common Room. 'It was just that Voldemort was chasing you, and that's why you had to kill him.'

Harry had expected the news to cause a seismic shift in Neville's demeanor, but the latter just sat there, petting Arnold and nodding to himself as though he had known all along. Harry caught Hermione watching them quietly from across the room. She nodded, as though she knew what he had just told Neville, and approved of his actions. Little did he know, Hermione was awed by just how similar the two black-haired boys were, not just in appearance, but at heart. Harry had never mentioned Dumbledore's theory about the alternative victim of the prophecy to Hermione, but she had figured it within days of first hearing the contents of the prophecy. With a small smile to herself, she returned her attention to pretending to take Percy's opinions on media involvement in government into consideration while in reality attempting to keep his prying eyes away from the statement she was drafting. Her heart was bursting with pride as she marveled at how much Harry and Neville had matured from the fragile and unsure little Gryffindor boys they had been seven years previously.

They were Gryffindor men now.

 **I know it's shorter, but I thought it made more sense to leave it here (short and sweet) than expound in a new direction. Review and let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I was travelling. Thank you to everyone who followed/favourited the story, and those who've left reviews!**

 **Disclaimer: JKR owns HP.**

 **Chapter Seven**

The silence was deafening.

The late-afternoon sun hung low in the western sky, reflecting off the glass windows up and down the rickety structure of the Burrow. A slight squeak ruptured the hush as the kitchen window was thrown open, and Harry spied the back of the youngest Weasley. Her hands wounded up her dark red hair into a pile at the top of her head as she spoke to someone behind her. There was a tinkling laugh- a very short one. As she turned around and pulled on the rubber gloves by the sink, Harry saw the forced smile she'd been using on one of her brothers- either Charlie or Percy- disappear, replaced by a familiar kind of miserable determination. He watched as she paused for a moment, eyes screwed shut, and Harry wondered whether she was about to cry; as her chest heaved and she released a long, slow breath, he realized she was merely drinking in the warmth that was pouring in through the tiny window.

He couldn't help but think she looked like an angel, the sunlight illuminating her like a halo.

Ginny's eyes opened, and Harry nestled himself deeper in the reeds; her eyes roved around the garden, pausing only momentarily where he was hidden, before returning her attention to the dishes in front of her. His heart twitching painfully in his chest, Harry sighed. Things between Ginny and Harry had been hot and cold the past few days. She had been distant when Charlie wandered into the Gryffindor Common Room two nights ago, stating that George had hexed him and taken off on his own. Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent the whole night awake after this, unable to go to sleep knowing one of their own was out there once more, alone and possibly unprotected. When they left Hogwarts for the Burrow the following morning, they knew from the shadows under their eyes and drawn expressions that none of the other Weasleys had gotten a wink of sleep more than the three of them. One look at Fred's hand on the family clock, which was pointing despondently at "Lost", and Mrs Weasley had been inconsolable. Ginny had sworn loudly before hurrying to cover the clock with a dishtowel. While Mr Weasley took up the task of taking care of his devastated wife, Ginny had taken up the mantle of mistress of the house. She would allow neither her brothers, nor Harry, Hermione and Fleur to help as she took on the responsibility of everything from cooking and cleaning, to feeding the chickens and laundry- without magic. She performed each of these tasks with the same resolute expression in her eyes, trying to camouflage every sign of fatigue with strained smiles, and drowning out the muffled sounds of Mrs Weasley's sobs with half-hearted jokes.

Harry was beginning to tire of her false cheeriness; the only reason he hadn't confronted her about it was because Hermione had insisted that this was part of Ginny's healing.

 _'She's running herself to the ground!' Harry had whispered angrily, as Ginny shooed him out of the kitchen after dinner the previous night and started clearing the plates herself._

 _'She needs this,' Hermione replied, her brow furrowed seriously as she peered up at Harry. 'She wants to make sure she does everything her mother would do-'_

 _'That's rubbish!' Harry retaliated. 'Even Mrs Weasley asked for help, made us chop and-'_

 _'I know it's frustrating, but she just wants to feel useful, and she thinks this is the best way she can help everyone heal,' Hermione said, placing a placating hand on Harry's arm._

 _'But what about her? Fred was her brother, too! She needs to heal!'_

 _'She is healing. This is part of the process. I know you're expecting a breakdown, but people don't cry all the time while they're mourning. Everyone has their own way.' Hermione smiled sadly as she cast a quick look at Ron, who was sitting quietly by the hearth. 'She still needs you, Harry, more than she ever has before.'_

Harry realized with a start that the serrated edge of the rock clutched unconsciously in his fist had pierced the skin of his palm. Thinking wryly that the last thing he needed was another scar, he chucked the rock and it skidded across the surface of the pond. He wiped the blood on his grey trousers. Throwing off the black robes from his shoulders, hedabbed at the beads of sweat gathering at the base of his neck. He felt sticky all over, and the thought of dipping into the pond seemed surprisingly appealing. It had been uncomfortably hot all day, seated on straight-backed wooden chairs under the glaring sun on the Hogwarts grounds. Ginny had allowed Harry to hold her hand and comfort her as they sat through the memorial service for those who had fallen at the Final Battle, as the Daily Prophet had begun to call their last stand at Hogwarts. Barely able to contain his own emotions, Harry watched her eyes gleam with tears as Colin Creevey's name was read aloud by the tufty-haired Master of Ceremonies; at Remus Lupin, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and he wiped it away; once they arrived at Nymphadora Tonks, too many tears had joined the first, and Harry could no longer wipe them away; by the time Fred Weasley's name read out, she had buried her face in her hands, and Harry could do nothing more than rub her back as she sobbed quietly. When the service ended, he tried to hug her, but she shrunk away from him. As she walked away through the crowd, a little voice in Harry's head that sounded uncannily like Hermione suggested that the setting was too familiar to Dumbledore's funeral the previous year; the parallels made it difficult for Ginny to be vulnerable around him.

Harry had hoped that this would be the turning point- that after the emotional morning, Ginny's resolve would have softened, and she would have let someone else take hold of the reigns. Her irate rebuke towards a confused Fleur, who had attempted to set the kettle on the stove to make tea told Harry otherwise. Once Bill and Fleur had retreated to Shell Cottage after lunch, and Mr Weasley had brought down Mrs Weasley's untouched tray of food from their bedroom, Hermione had decided it would be good for Ron if they took a walk. Harry had risen to leave with them, only to have Hermione request that she and Ron be given some time alone. Harry had shrugged and taken up his position on the far side of the pond, from where he could see the whole of the Burrow and the backyard. The gnomes loitered around him, generally giving him a wide berth. Every time one got too close, Harry charmed some rocks from the bank of the pond to chase it away. One such gnome braved his way forward now, and Harry waved his wand lazily. With a squeal, the gnome dove headfirst back into its hole as a stick started to wallop it. As Harry put his wand back on the grass, he noticed that the jagged cut on his palm- deeper than he had first surmised- was still bleeding profusely.

With a flash, he was taken back to the moment he had found the shard of Sirius' mirror in his trunk, and the cup of cold tea by his bedroom door in Number 4, Privet Drive. He had resolved to ask Hermione how to heal cuts the next time he saw her. Fortunately, through all his journeys over the past year, Hermione had been by his side to heal him, and his failure to acquire this knowledge had not cost him.

Now, however, she was off on a walk with Ron, and Harry's hand was beginning to sting. The whole situation was comical, and Harry couldn't help it- a hoot of laughter escaped him.

'What's so funny?'

Harry stopped laughing abruptly. Ginny stood before him, still wearing the bright yellow rubber gloves, but her eyes were aglow with curiosity. Harry raised his palm to show her the cut. She moved closer, kneeling as much as her formal dark grey dress would allow her to, and took Harry's hand gently in her own. She inspected it for a few moments, before raising her wand and silently casting a charm. He experienced a curious tingling, a quick burning sensation, followed by a flash of cold, and the skin on his palm sewed itself up. Cocking her head to the side, she furrowed her brow and cast another charm to remove the blood. With a sigh, she looked at Harry and said, 'Mum would have been a lot neater, but it'll have to do.'

Harry spared a glance down at his palm, where there was now a thin, jagged scar that looked days old. 'It looks fine to me.'

'Well, Mum wouldn't have left a scar,' Ginny said, jutting her chin out stubbornly, and Harry was reminded of Tonks bemoaning her inability to match her mother's domestic spell skills as she magically folded Harry's socks.

'I'm pretty used to it,' Harry quipped, and Ginny cracked a smile as she straightened up and made to turn away. 'Wait!'

She looked back at Harry. 'Do you need something else?'

'No, but-' Harry shifted slightly, patting the grass next to him. 'Sit? Just for a minute?'

Ginny watched him shrewdly for a few seconds, before settling down next to him, tucking her legs primly beneath herself.

'Did you learn how to do that because-'

'Because I had to heal a lot of people this year,' Ginny answered his unfinished question curtly. 'Including myself.'

There was a prolonged moment of heavy silence.

'How did you know I was here?'

'Oh, Harry, did you think you've discovered this spot?' Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Every Weasley child knew growing up that this was the best place to hide after pulling something, so you can keep an eye out for Mum. It took us years to realize Mum always knew exactly where we were, anyway.'

Harry chuckled. 'I guess I'm a real Weasley now.'

Ginny's gaze softened. 'You've always been part of the family, Harry.'

'Even without the freckles and red hair?' Ginny laughed as Harry imitated Ron's gormless expression when he headed down to breakfast every morning.

'You should be glad we aren't related, Potter,' Ginny lilted, and Harry cherished this moment of genuine mirth with this beautiful girl. It was short-lived. Before his eyes, her face fell back into the old lines of worry and sadness.

He took one of her hands into his own. 'Tell me what you're thinking about.'

Her brown eyes darted to him, and then quickly away again.

'Please?' Harry insisted.

She took another moment before answering. 'It's too quiet,' she said slowly.

Harry looked up at the Weasleys' home. Yes, he agreed with her. Someone or the other had been traipsing up to the attic throughout the day to cast fresh Stunning charms on the ghoul, who was none too happy about being ejected from Ron's room. Since returning from the memorial service at noon, Mrs Weasley's constant sobbing had disappeared; she now lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring into space; Harry almost missed the wailing as much as he missed the frequent bangs that used to issue from the twins' room the first summer he had visited this house. The prospect of Fred's funeral the following day was settling in on the Burrow like a thick fog, suffocating its residents.

'Do you think George will show?' Ginny asked, her voice tense. 'Tomorrow?'

Harry looked at her. Her hair was still smoothed away from her face, allowing the dark purple circles that had taken up residence around her eyes to contrast vividly with her pale skin. Her lips were slightly parted, and she was breathing rather rapidly through them. With a rush of understanding, Harry understood what Hermione had been trying to explain to him. She knew what Harry's answer to this question would be, yet Harry's answer would open the floodgates. She wouldn't cry- no, Ginny was not a crier, Harry had always known this. But Harry sensed that the uncertain fate of her deceased brother's twin, his absence at the memorial, and the possibility of his absence at the funeral tomorrow would be the turning point for Ginny.

'I don't know, Gin,' he replied softly. 'But I hope he does.'

She nodded to herself, absently throwing the rocks she'd been playing with into the pond as her breathing slowed down again. With a cacophony of plops, the pebbles disappeared beneath the surface of the water. She got to her feet, brushed the grass off her dress, and offered Harry her hand. Taking it, he rose and followed her back to the kitchen. Harry watched as Ginny puttered about the room, taking out vegetables and setting out piles of cutlery. Ginny would still not let Harry help her, but permitted him to sit with her as she worked. The fact that she did not fill the space between them with mindless chatter, but allowed him to be privy to her silent mourning was enough for Harry. Ginny was a proud creature, and Harry knew she would not take leaning on someone else lightly. He recognized the steely defiance that shone in her eyes- he had seen it in Mrs Weasley. Her sheer determination had carried her so far, but she was opening up to Harry now because she had depleted her own supplies of strength.

Ginny's mask of composure and humor slipped back on as the kitchen at the Burrow filled up once more, first by Ron and Hermione, who looked as grim as they had when they left; followed by Charlie and Percy, who had gone to the twins' flat in Diagon Alley to check whether George was there, to no luck. When Mr Weasley finally descended from the room he shared with his wife, Ginny began to flit about, doling out food and pouring pumpkin juice. Only when she had ensured everyone had been served enough potatoes did she take her seat opposite Harry. She immediately engaged her dejected father in a conversation about an idea she'd had about fixing Sirius' motorbike, but took a moment to exchange with Harry a lingering look so full of anguish and gratitude that his stomach cartwheeled. In that moment, Harry resolved that he would do everything in his power to never have to see that look in Ginny's eyes again, if not for her, then for the her mother: the woman upstairs who had not eaten a bite in over two days, who had never allowed Harry to feel the absence of a mother, and who would, the next day, lay one of her own to rest forever.

 **A/N: It's a little fluffy, I know, but I couldn't help it. I apologize for the slow pace, but I want to do their emotional struggle justice instead of rushing through. Excited to see more reviews!**


End file.
